The FBI arrested Feng Liu at the landing strip. He and Marissa were headed to Hong Kong in his private plane. Liu had powerful attorneys who’d probably get him released on a technicality. Marissa’s bodyguards hadn’t been located. My guess was they left the country when the fire threatened to burn them.

After Eli had pulled the trigger on Marissa, he bled out. I didn’t think he had a will to live. Aria witnessed both her parents’ deaths, and the nightmare culminating in horror pushed her into shock. She still met with Pastor Emory five days a week for counseling. She adored him. Mrs. Emory had homeschooled her the last month of school with her own children. Although Aria was enrolled in the local high school for fall, she hadn’t decided if facing a new environment and the possibility of other kids viewing her as a freak made sense. I understood her reservations—the past stalked me fiercely.

Pastor Emory counseled me weekly, and Dad had taken advantage too. One trait about myself had risen to the surface, and Pastor Emory termed it arrested development.

The State of Texas presented me with a full pardon, a bright spot in my life. A Hollywood producer wanted to do a movie about my life, but I refused unless he wrote my faith into the script with a focus on forgiveness. We were still discussing it.

The FBI had found four hundred thousand dollars in Marissa’s shoulder bag. As of yet, the authorities couldn’t determine where it had originated, so for now it sat in a trust account for Aria.

Each day drew me closer to healing, thanks to God, my dear Denton, and my beloved family and friends. I glanced around Amy-Jo’s busy café, taking in the sights, smells, and sounds of normalcy. Customers filled the booths and tables, and servers jotted down and delivered lunch orders. Not much call for pastries until dessert time. Simply Shelby had done well, thanks to Edie’s help with my business model.

From the kitchen, Dad carried an order. He seemed to sense my gaze on him, and he smiled, an unspoken reassurance of love. We’d get through the tragedy. He’d sold the bakery in Sharp’s Creek, allowing Aria and him to move to Valleysburg for a much-needed fresh start. The sale provided funds to take part ownership in Amy-Jo’s Café. The two owners had struck up a friendship and often went fishing and hunting together. Our customers learned Dad’s mother had created Mimi’s cinnamon bread, and the orders doubled.

Once the truth hit the media, the people of Valleysburg treated me much better, with forgiveness flowing on both sides. I learned Denton had a heart for troubled teens, so we regularly visited the town’s youth center. Randy received weekly visits from us at the rehab. He’d lengthened his stay, said he didn’t want to do a repeat later. He had yet to apologize to me, and unless Jesus got hold of him, he probably wouldn’t ever admit wrongdoing. Pride had a way of destroying us all.